Trying her luck: Novice takes crack at gambling

Rookies gamblers can get tips from those in the know. Do your research so you know what games you want to play, advises Kim Martin, a casino manager at L' Auberge du Lac.

Photo By San Antonio Express-News

The best strategy for slots? Find a machine you like, sit down and start spinning. (Sunglasses optional.)

Photo By San Antonio Express-News

Tips for rookie gamblers: Set a budget, get a Player's Card and ask questions.

Photo By San Antonio Express-News

Gambling can be a team sport. Half the fun is getting to know other folks and enjoying the thrill of the ride together.

I'm in a casino with $50 and I have no idea what to do next. And it's New Year's Eve.

While I love the casino lifestyle — the all-night concerts and bars and dining, the sheer energy of everyone's hopes and excitement — I tend to spend my time there people-watching, not playing.

But tonight, I have resolved, I'm going to give it a shot. The casino floor is packed with revelers in masks and party hats. Hopes are fresh. Dreams are bright. And what better way to ring in the New Year than by throwing caution to the winds and trying something new?

Yep. That's the plan.

Right after I get my free drink.

On the floor

No matter how many times I go to a casino, that first step onto the floor is a little overwhelming. It's a barely controlled feeling of chaos, heightened in part by the dinging and pinging of the slots, and in part by of the intensity ricocheting off the gamblers, many of whom are playing two or three bets at a time.

Tonight, packed with New Years' Eve partiers, the energy at the Horseshoe Casino in Bossier City, La., is even more amped up. It's 10:30 p.m. — just over an hour before my husband and I plan to attend a rooftop bash to ring in the new year — and everyone is celebrating the promise of luck. The tables are packed. The crowd around the craps table is aglitter in sparkly clothes, extravagant makeup and hope. And the aisles between the slot machines are full of players and spectators alike.

It is here that I focus my energy. I have a $50 slot credit, a “gimme” because of my husband's card-playing, even though he turns up his nose at the slot machines. So he's handed the voucher off to me for journalistic purposes. And because, maybe — hey, who knows? — I might turn that $50 into $500. Emphasis on the might.

From the beginning, I find myself more than a little overwhelmed. There are hundreds upon hundreds of machines here, some looking like the traditional one-armed bandits of Sinatra's Vegas, other tricked out with flashing video screens and a realistic card-game interface.

I don't know a flush from a full house half the time (plus, I've already knocked back that free drink), so I scorn the games that call for skill. Tonight, I'm just going to see if I can get lucky — in the financial sense, please. But where to begin?

The choices seem infinite. Treasure Voyage. Elvis. Ancient Dragon. China Shore. Clue. Coyote Moon. Even “Seinfeld” and “Ghostbusters” have themed gambling machines these days. I settle in at a corner machine — one of the few that's open — squeeze my second glass of free wine onto the ledge next to it, and prepare to get rich quick.

Except I don't know where to begin. Do I slide in the voucher and then the Player's Card (a casino-issued card that tracks play)? Or vice versa? Furtively, I look at the woman next to me, who is calmly placing $1 bets in three machines at a time. Her Player's Card is attached to her wrist by a bracelets that looks like an old-fashioned phone cord.

Seeing that I'm confused, she efficiently swipes my Player's Card, then inserts the credit voucher for me. The machine rings up a $50 credit. “Good luck,” she says.

Suddenly, I'm on a roll. The machine is flashing numbers at me — I don't even look at the reels to verify – but the word of the moment is “win.”

Win 3! Win 2! Win 5!

I lean back, cross my legs. My fingers rest on my temple, as I envision myself in a James Bond film, wiling away the hours winning the family fortune and swirling a cocktail in my perfectly manicured fingers.

And just like that, my credit balance is $78.

I am quite proud of my unexpected prowess, until I glance over at my neighbor. Her balance is $350. Showoff.

Still, I'm winning! I win again. And again. And again.

And, then ... lose. Lose. Lose. Lose. Lose. Lose.

Suddenly, I'm down to $30-something. How did that happen?

I glance at my watch. I've been playing for 10 minutes. At this rate, I'll have blown that whole $50 well before 11 p.m. — never mind midnight.

Focus, Jenni. Focus.

I decide to employ strategy. If I sit back and don't play my credits, I rationalize, the machine will fear I'm losing interest and offer up a winning hand. I will outsmart this thing yet.

To lull the slot machine into my trap, I sit back, sip my wine, and watch the players around me for a few minutes. Minutes pass. I finish my drink and prepare to win my money back.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more.

I push the button blindly for a few minutes, losing again and again and again. I am down to $20, when I see there's an old-fashioned “arm” on the side of the machine that I can pull to take my turn. Maybe that's the secret, I think, and pull it.

No, apparently that's not the secret.

I exhale loudly and look around for the waitress. It's 10:50 p.m. I have $18.50 left in credit.

The woman next to me hits a $200 jackpot. Other gamblers cheer. I seethe.

At this point, I've given up on winning my fortunes. I just want to make my $18.50 last until 11 p.m., so I will have had 30 minutes of entertainment for my $50.

I start talking with the other players, partly because I'm curious to know what drives them — and partly to find out why they're winning and I'm not.

“It's the way it is,” my helpful, jackpot-winning neighbor tells me. “But as soon as you started losing, you should have switched machines. I never let a machine take more than half my money.”

And, she tells me, she almost always wins.

A man across the aisle nods in agreement. “Don't put good money in after bad,” he says.

I'm committed, though, and don't want to move — especially now that I have a friendly cheering squad. I hit the button with the all the enthusiasm I can muster.

Yes! We win 1!

Chatting with other players has changed the dynamic; suddenly, this feels more like a team sport. We're all rooting for one another and having fun.

But then, a string of losses. I'm down to $7.50. I would cash out, but I don't know how.

Resigned, I play it out. It's three minutes past 11 when I hit my final spin ... and lose.

“If you don't mind me saying so, I think it's because you were skeptical,” another player tells me, speaking around the party horn sticking out of the side of her mouth. “You have to believe you'll win to win.”

It's probably not that simple, but there are worse resolutions to end a year on, I decide, signaling the waitress for another drink. In 2013, I'm gonna choose to believe.